


To the End of Time

by demon_hatchling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anchors, Coming of Age, Growing Up Together, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_hatchling/pseuds/demon_hatchling
Summary: Stiles is 8 when he comes into his power, too soon and before anyone is ready for it.Derek is 12 when he kills an Alpha attacking his pack, becoming one in the process.This is the story of a small town in southern California, in which a young Mage and a young Alpha carve out their future, saving each other and their world in the process.





	1. The Inheritance

_Stiles_

 

The first memory he has is of a song his mother used to sing him to sleep. He can remember, as if through a fog, an ancient lullaby that is as part of his national identity as his father’s moral compass is of his personal one.

When she dies, for some reason, that’s all he can think of. He murmurs it and speaks of it in whispers, the harsh words of the language stumbling clumsily from his lips. He never did manage to master the language of “his people” fluently, settling for the basics. His mother promised to teach him, but now she was gone and dad didn't know. No one knew and he was adrift, no shore in sight.

“Oj lulaj, lulaj , Siwe óczka stulaj, Oj, siwe ocie stulisz, do mnie się przytulisz” he sings every night, rocking himself back and forth, Batman pajamas feeling weirdly appropriate. Because yeah, John still had a pulse, but he was far from present, drowning in a mess of his own making, whiskey bottles lining the room and the closets and the cupboards, taking up all the air.

“Oj lulaj, lujaj , Maleńki sukole, Oj, jak ty mie urośniesz, Pójdziesz ze mną w pole” the second verse is more difficult; it speaks of a little falcon, and Stiles is not little anymore, he pays all the bills and has working knowledge of the stove, perfecting his mac’n’cheese.

He doesn’t recognize the Stiles from before, the one that didn’t have sparks randomly flying all over the place, the one that was pretty carefree and whose ADHD was waived at, as something to be grown out of. But he had no time to grow out of it; he was supposed to have more time. Now he has his magic waiving itself around the disorder, his fingers always tapping against a hard surface, his mouth always running a mile a minute.

It was his fault, the thing that happened and nothing can convince him it wasn’t.

He was at Scott’s and they were watching a documentary about polar bears. Did you know that polar bears have black skin and that their fur is actually transparent? How cool is that?!

But then Mr. McCall came home and he was really angry. He started shouting at Mrs. McCall before turning to the two of them. Scott just froze in place, but Stiles, he could never keep quiet. He saw something wrong and he wanted to fix it, needed to; he could fix things now, he was magic his mother said.

Mr. McCall turned to him, snarled about abominations and deaths and magic always messing things up and Stiles suddenly couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was dying, the word abomination bouncing around in his head. His vision blurred and his fingers tingled, but it wasn’t the usual tingle of his spark, he knew his spark, the potential it presents and he embraced it fully, but no, this wasn’t anything like that. He felt cold and like his heart would jump out of his chest any second.

Next thing he knew, Mrs. McCall was calling his mom to come pick him up. “He should get some rest in a more familiar environment.” He heard her saying on the phone. He couldn’t hear his mom’s reply, but she arrived there quickly enough, gathering him in her arms, murmuring “To wszystko jest w porządku, kochanie. Chodźmy do domu” in his ear.

He felt a bit better, safer, when they got to the car, his mom promising a trip to the sundae shop as soon as dad came home.

He didn’t see the car coming. It wasn’t dark, it wasn’t slippery; the other driver wasn’t drunk. But his mom’s side of the car was still crashed into and the car flipped.

Everything was upside down and there was blood dripping from his ear, he could feel it sliding down his face. There was dust in his nose along with a rusty smell. He couldn’t really see anything, apart from a blur, but he could hear mom “Grzegorz, are you all right? Kochanie, say something, please”.

“It hurts.” He managed to get out, realizing that his two front teeth were missing. Huh, weird, there was just blood and skin where they should be.

“Grzegorz, listen to me, this is very important. Never tell your name to anyone. It’s very important. Names have power. Promise me.”The demand was odd, especially at a time like this; he could hear sirens getting closer. “Kochanie, promise”, she urged.

“I promise Mama.” No one could even pronounce his name right, everyone calls him Stiles anyway, why would he start telling them about his name now. Jackson teases him enough as it is. It’s still weird that this is that important.

“Kochanie, remember, all it takes is belief and a few words. You will do great things, kochasz. Just believe,” the words seemed jumbled, his world fuzzing a bit. There was a small pool of blood at the bottom of his skull, at the roof of the car. Huh, the car really is upside down. Fascinating.

The last thing he heard before everything going black was his mom whispering "Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures."

When he came to, his mother was gone and he was burning. He didn’t have a scratch on him.

He heard paramedics talking of a great power, of a great feat, of a mother’s love. There were strings pulling him in ten different directions, everything was too loud, there was no way out, only in and in and in.

His father arrived at the scene to see his wife dead and son almost catatonic, eyes shifting between brown and gold and violet so bright that it almost formed a ray. Almost burned them all. He was chanting something, John realized. A word. Iovis. John hesitated a second too long and Stiles turned his eyes to him, “Dad, it burns. Deaton.”

Help, he needs to get help. Deaton, he has to know what to do. He was working closely with mom and he might be busy with his wolves, but is there truly a greater danger than a spark coming into his family inheritance at age of eight? No formal training, no focus, just a millennia of power being poured into a tiny body not able to withstand it yet.

“I got you, Stiles. Don’t worry.” His dad says, faking calm and picking his son up. Only one place to go. Deaton’s.

* * *

 

The next few months are odd, sort of blurry. Deaton gives him a mixture of kava and ginkgo biloba, and he starts feeling calmer. But he still has no idea how to control what he can do. Deaton is trying to teach him meditation, fully aware of his restlessness.

That’s how desperate he’s become.

Although Deaton says that his magic will burn the ADHD out at some point, he finds it hard to believe, because he feels them intervened, tied into a tight knot inside of him. When he tries to explain it, he’s lacking words, so he just gives up after a point.

He works with Deaton every day, most of the day; he’s not going to school until he stabilizes his power. Though used to supernatural creatures, his school is not prepared to take on a newly formed mage-that-should-still-be-a-spark. They don’t want to risk it.

So Stiles is getting his homework from Scott’s mom, because he’s not even allow to see Scott. This is crazy, if you ask him, because his power knows Scott is a friend, a brother, wouldn’t even dream of hurting him.

And he’s spending the usual school hours trying to center himself and find his anchor, and he’s never felt more helpless.

The small tricks he was so proud of managing a few months back, the ones which made his mother so proud, seem so silly now, because he understands the magnitude of his magic now. Can feel his ancestor’s power running through his veins, but completely unsure in how to manage it. He feels like a faulty conductor.

To make matters worse, his dad is never around, always doing double shifts or night shifts, and being absent even when he’s there. Even Deaton leaves him alone most of the time. And he feels terribly isolated, lonely.

His mom is not here anymore, and it’s his entire fault, and now he can’t even remember the funeral, and is banned from visiting the cemetery because the last time he was there he grew a giant cherry tree on his mom’s grave. Cherry was her favorite. It took them four hours to chop the tree down, roots too tangled into the coffin, reaching in and curling around mom’s hand.

He’s banned from school and Scott, Deaton keeps giving him useless advice and his dad can’t even look at him anymore and he does feel like an abomination.

Time goes by and he doesn’t improve his control. But he does learn all there is to learn about Abraham Lincoln after getting swept in a research frenzy after reading Lincoln and His Boys.

And he learns to turn the washing machine on, when he wakes up one day to no clean clothes; and to make potato dishes and canned soups after living off pizza for two months straight. He gets nauseous just smelling pepperoni now. His dad uses drinking as a crutch and there are weeks when he doesn’t even speak to Stiles.

He knows he deserves it, mom being gone is his fault after all, but it still hurts.

He’s all alone.


	2. The Way to Have Power is to Take It

**Derek**

 

“Hide, take Cora with you! Come on, run, Der-bear!” Hearing that God-awful nickname was not going to make him compliant, no matter what Laura thinks. It’s not cute.

So what if he had a bear as a kid, a lot of kids like their toys enough to carry them places. She will haunt him with this forever. She even told her hot friend Kate where the nickname comes from. He could feel the tips of his ears burning as she recounted the story. The next Alpha or not, Laura was a big sister first, and those are the WORST.

He still grabbed Cora and tried to find an adequate hiding place, but only because Uncle Peter grunted at him, not because Laura said so. Uncle Peter took training very seriously, ever since the Argents moved back into town. He didn’t trust them even though Laura and Kate were classmates and friends, united for the purpose of forming an alliance and making the town more stable.

Derek didn’t really understand the need for werewolf hunters to be honest. It wasn’t like werewolves were inherently bad, so why the need to control them all the time? He knew some of the history, of course, the moon creating its children and making them strong, and vital, and smart; and the sun cursing them, jealous of her brother’s creation, making them bound instead of free.

He feels the bounds sometimes and he runs and runs and runs. He once ran all the way to New York, to Laura’s new apartment and she had been furious. His mother couldn’t come get him straight away so he stayed for a few days, and Laura pretended to be mad but she still brought him everywhere with her. He thinks he’ll go to university in New York too. It’s a nice city, even though Laura’s apartment smelled funny.

Cora squirms in his arms and he almost drops her. Focus, Derek.

Laura jumps from a tree nearby and they’re caught. “Derek, were you even trying? Come on, you know this is important.”

He bowed his head, feeling a bit ashamed. He knows it’s important, but he still thinks Uncle Peter is blowing things out of proportion. He’s been on edge even since Ms Claudia’s car accident and her son’s inheritance of the power she possessed.

Sometimes, at times of great boredom, when not even baseball or running  take up enough of his energy, he goes to Deaton’s and watches him work. For some reason he keeps having the need to help the new mage in town and he can’t really explain it. He mentioned it to Laura and she just said to be patient and that the right time will come, whatever that meant. Laura was weird sometimes.

They turned to go back to the house when a long howl was heard. A wolf was wounded. Outside enemies. One of their own was down, training was over.

Laura ran towards the noise, but not before shoving Cora in his arms. He didn’t need to be told what to do. Get Cora to safety. He was a trained soldier since birth and this wasn’t a game.

He was a fast runner, the fastest in his family, his mother often joked that what he lacks in communication he makes up for in evasion skills, and this was something to be used to his advantage. No one was following them, but he was still wary, taking sudden turns and taking big leaps from time to time.

When he got to Deaton’s, the boy was there. But for once, Derek didn’t even look in his direction. “Pack under attack. Here, take Cora. Going back.” In Deaton’s defense, he tried to stop him. Derek was quick to wave his concern off and run back out.

There was mayhem back home. The house was on fire. Mom was trying to fight off a massive man, who moved swiftly, yet with a strange type of grace. Dad was taking on two guys, twins, they moved eerily in sync. Laura was circling a tall, dark-haired woman with claws on her feet. Creepy.

Peter was worst off, bleeding from his stomach, as far as Derek could see. He’s probably the one who howled; he was jumped first. Just as Peter was climbing back to his feet and Derek was about to jump in and help his dad, there was a yelp. The dark-haired lady had shifted; had Laura pinned down, cowering and vulnerable.

Laura was the strong one. She didn’t cower. Derek didn’t stop to think before creeping up behind the woman and sliding a claw under her throat. When she tried to move, he slit it.

At first, he thought the weird feeling was because he killed someone, but then he felt his vision turning red.

Fuck. He killed an alpha.

The man fighting her mom stopped moving. He zeroed in on Derek, who was panting, trying to fight the adrenaline off and not shift. He moved, as if to attack Derek, but mom was fast to pin him down.

“We had a deal, Duke. You were to pass and not touch. Now one of your pack is dead. Seems like you have a choice to make: see the rest of your pack perish or leave this territory and never come back. This is Hale land and it is protected. Mage or no mage.”

Her voice didn’t waiver in anger or tremble in fear. Actually she sounded like she usually did when she scolded Derek for not cleaning his room on time. Her mom voice.

“So be it”- said the man, Duke, before shifting back. His eyes were white. He was blind, Derek realized. He had never seen a blind were before.

“Someone should go get Cora.” Came Uncle Peter’s voice. Seems like the fight was over. Derek had ended it. Laura approached him and he felt his eyes turn red. He tried to stop himself, but he still growled at her.

Fuck, no, come on, that’s Laura. Come on. Come on.

His eyes wouldn’t turn back. He couldn’t shift back. He felt his mother start to approach, the foreign pack now gone, and he panicked. He could hurt her, she wasn’t his alpha anymore. So he does the only thing he can.

He runs.

* * *

 

His dad finds him after a week. He’d been hiding in the woods, and he guesses mom sent dad to talk him down or something. Which is silly in itself, and not just because his dad was the silent type; it wasn’t as if he’d do anything to hurt anyone in the pack. No matter the fact that he was no longer part of it.

Caution. He understood caution. Was taught it since he was old enough to ask what fear is, what a monster is and why the kids at school would laugh at his lisp. He had a hard time pulling his fangs back until he was 4, struggling to talk around them and usually just giving up after a few tries. No one could ever make out what he was saying.

Dad makes a few valid points and frankly Derek is sick of sneaking in at night for snacks, and he’s definitely not resorting to the wildlife. He’s a were, not a savage. So he ends up going home, trusting his dad not to steer him wrong, trusting nothing major will change. Maybe they could un-alpha him or something, and then everything could go back to normal.

He takes two steps into the house before being overwhelmed with a strong urge to attack, to claim. Everything smells just a bit off and his vision is red again.

He turns towards the door and freezes. There is someone who smells like him already there.

He breathes and for the first time in a week, nothing hurts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we meet Derek, in all his 12 year old glory ^^ Stay tuned for exciting stuff to come :) Talk to me on tumblr- demon-hatchling
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read, comment and leave kudos :) You guys are wonderful and I love you so much <3
> 
> A huge supermegagiga thank you to Raiven, for inspiring me and supporting me, and especially for having the patience to deal with my inconsistent tenses <333 I'd be lost without you ^^


	3. Anchor

**Stiles**

 

Stiles knew the Hales, and not even in that weird way that smaller town families knew each other, he didn’t know of them, he’d actually met them and talked to them. Mrs. Talia was the Alpha, he was six when she inherited the status from her mother, had helped his mom gather ingredients for the ritual.

Traditionally, an Alpha were will pass the mantle on when they feel that whoever is inhering it is ready and stable enough, that they came into their power and stabilized it with help of family. It’s also tradition to invite the town’s mage, if the town had one, and if the pack was on friendly terms with them.

Stiles not only helped with ingredients, he did so well that his mom let him be present for the ritual. In fact, he was the one placing a crown of sage, bellflower and larkspur on Talia’s head (wisdom, gratitude, protection) and the one to receive the triskalion disk from Mrs. Olivia and take it to Mrs. Talia. He did all a mage should short of saying the words of the ritual.

The entire pack was present at the ritual, that’s how Stiles knows them. The Beacon Hills pack had eight people including Mrs. Talia and her husband Mr. Aaron. They had three children. Laura who was the oldest, sixteen at the time of the ritual and whose gaze was unwavering; she would be the next Alpha, so she tried her best to memorize everything.

Then came Derek, who was ten and really nice. Even though he looked kind of angry. He was the one to offer water to Stiles after he cleared his throat one too many times (though it’s possible he was just annoyed) and he was the one who ran around making sure everyone was happy, and that Cora, the youngest, was taken care of.

Cora was just two and she liked to run around more wolf than human, shifted and on all fours, making Derek run after her, giggling. There were also other people in their pack, Stiles knew, Mrs.Talia’s brother Mr. Peter and his wife, and their daughter Cory, who he went to school with and who was super excited to become a big sister and wouldn’t shut up about it, ever.

So yeah, Stiles knew the Hales, knew they were wolves and that Deaton was their Emissary, that his mom sometimes helped them and trusted them, knew they were all dark-haired and easy going and kind. They came to the funeral, the adults did, his dad says, but Stiles still doesn’t remember much of it.

One day, as he’s at Deaton’s learning Latin, because yes this is a thing he learns now, he needs to know, so that maybe he can get some semblance of control over what he can do, Derek runs into the tiny reception room, startling Mrs. Crowley, the little old lady who always brings cookies and has four dogs, drops Cora into Deaton’s waiting hands and grunts about the pack being attacked.

He looks wild in a way Stiles has never seen him, with hair askew and branches sticking out, he’s barely keeping his claws in, he can see the impression they’re making under the skin. Not for the first time, he wonders if it hurts. Derek’s eyes are wide, flickering between gold and a hazel-ish hue, and he runs back out before Deaton can stop him.

Cora starts wailing, she’s four which is old enough to feel something is wrong, even if her brother didn’t just drop her off and run off, so Stiles makes himself busy with her. He gives Mrs. Crowley an apologetic glance and turns to the half-shifted girl-wonder before him, crouching down.

“Hey Cora, remember me? I put the pretty crown on your mom’s head? We even made that plan to ambush Derek with water guns together, remember? Well, even if you don’t that’s all right. I’m Stiles and I help Deaton out sometimes. Do you wanna see something really cool?”

He hasn’t tried doing anything in a while, content to let his magic go free, but now there’s this small girl needing comfort, so he pulls on the strings and believes.  “Papilionem”, he whispers and a dozen colorful butterflies appear and start circling the wide-eyed wolf-girl. She giggles at them and tries to grab a few, but they slip out of her reach, dancing around her head.

He turns to see Deaton looking at him intently, like he’s trying to figure something out. But before he can ask what, there’s a new commotion in the front.

“Uncle Peter, Uncle Peter”, he hears Cora yell, running towards the man holding himself a bit too carefully. Huh, why did he come pick her up if he’s hurt? Is everyone else worse off? What about Mrs. Talia and Laura, aren’t they supposed to be the strongest ones? And Derek, what about the wild boy who is kind?

“I’m afraid there’s been an issue of sorts, Alan. We’re going to need your council.” Mr. Peter’s gaze doesn't even move from Cora, even though he’s talking to Deaton, almost like he’s afraid to look up and leave her out of his sight.

“Stiles, would you mind staying with Cora for a few minutes, while I talk to Peter in the back?” Deaton sounds calm, but when does he not, it has to be a part of that silent jedi ninja training he has going on. He nods, and moves to entertain the little girl.

When they come out a while later, Deaton’s face is set in the grimmest expression he’d ever seen, and he can’t help but blurt out “Derek’s ok, right? He wasn’t hurt?”

He’s not sure exactly why he needs to know this, but his magic is pulsing and throbbing and has been unsettled since the older Hale entered the clinic, something uneasy curling in his stomach. Mr. Peter looks at him for the first time since he entered.

“Ah, the Stilinski boy. I had wondered. Curious.” He never did say what was curious or answer Stiles’ question. He just took Cora’s hand and left.

* * *

It was an odd day, all and all, he still mixed up accusative and dative so even his studies were turning against him now, and Deaton didn’t budge when he tried asking about the Hales, even when he asked general and not Derek-specific questions. 

His dad picked him up, which was another odd occurrence and they went to Mandy’s, the local dinner that not only served the best pancakes, but they served them all day long. It was magnificent.

Dad looked serious, like he sometimes did when there were loose murderers in town. But whatever it was that was causing him trouble, he wouldn’t tell Stiles, so he decided to just try later (not give up, never give up).

It was Monday, which meant that tomorrow he’d get to see Scott for supervised “playtime”. He was partially annoyed that Mrs. McCall and dad decided to call it that, but too happy being allowed to be normal and see his best friend again, that he didn't even complain much.

His dad was much better now, after talking to Mrs. McCall and some therapist she recommended. He went there once a week and bottles were no longer making the place unbearable, so Stiles got his regular dad back when he was off work. He still worked a lot, but that was another story.

He even apologized to Stiles at one point, which made Stiles cry and apologize for mom, and drove his dad to say “Jesus, kid, it wasn’t your fault”, which to date is the best thing Stiles has ever heard. He still thinks he’s at fault, but it’s a relief his dad doesn’t hate him.

The rest of the week is uneventful. The “playtime” goes well, to dad’s surprise and Stiles’ indignation, “See, I told you my magic knows Scott is family”. Deaton still won’t tell him anything about the Hales, no matter how many times he tries to startle an answer out of him or bargain. He needs a new plan.

* * *

Before he can come up with a game plan, Laura shows up at the clinic. She scares Stiles into dropping the folder he was holding, papers going everywhere.

She looks a bit chagrined, yet Stiles is unperturbed “Seriously, someone has to tell me. It wasn’t going to be Deaton, because really, have you met Deaton, that man has less words than a grave and even when he speaks it’s Yoda talk without the cool verb placement. And your Uncle Peter was of no help. So you have to tell me”.

Laura looks a mix between amused and confused, which makes her eyebrows do a strange little dance before settling, “Tell you what?”

“Is Derek all right? What happened to him? You Hales and Hale-adjacent people cannot keep avoiding my questioning! I will wear you down eventually.” And he means it. He is patient; he can totally wear them down. He managed it with dad and Mrs. McCall with Scott-prohibition, he can do it again.

 Now she looks a strange type of impressed, like she is kind of impressed but doesn’t really want to be; Stiles works with Deaton, he is well-versed in every nuance of that particular look, “Actually, would you mind coming to the house with me? I think mom would do a better job explaining?”

“Dude, you could at least tell me he’s not bleeding out somewhere, and hasn’t been for the past week, and now you want me to perform some amazing ritual I’m not aware of exists and save him!”

“What?” she’s bewildered. Stiles does have that effect on people. “Just come with me, if I’m right, all you have to do is stand there.”

He’s a bit angry because no one is willing to tell him anything, but his curiosity does win out in the end, and he agrees. That’s how, twenty minutes later, he finds himself surrounded by seven Hales, with no Derek in sight. Mr. Hale is also missing from the crowd gathered in the living room, staring at him unnervingly.

Talia seems a bit angry with Laura, kept throwing pointed glances her way, while Laura completely ignored her and acted as if nothing was off. She went so far that she offered to make cookies. This got loud agreements from Cora, Cory and Mark, the youngest Hale, so Laura’s safe in the kitchen. And he’s left alone with the rest of the pack. 

That’s when a few people start tilting their heads and soon Stiles also hears someone opening the back door and approaching from the kitchen.

When Mr. Hale and Derek enter, everyone seems to freeze. No one says a word, everyone is even keeping their breath even, even the children.

Derek is growling lowly in the back of his throat, which kind of sounds like he has a bad cold and needs some tea, and his eyes are brighter than they were last time he saw him. They’re not flickering colors, but the green seems more pronounced somehow.

Then Derek turns to look at him and both of them sort of exhale.

Derek’s gaze is trained on him and the growling stops. He tilts his head, “Stiles?”

“Hey Derek, you know I was a bit worried that something had happened to you because everyone refused to talk to me. Dude, you should have seen it, the second I mentioned your name everyone completely shut down. It was weird, even for this town. And of course Deaton was of no help, when is he ever…” He trails off.

The Hales are all staring at him in bewilderment, with the exception of Laura who is cackling from the kitchen, like the crazy person she is, and Derek, who inched a few feet closer to him while he was talking.

His fingers started tingling and his feet started moving, without conscious thought, until he was planted firmly in front of Derek. Derek, who still didn’t say a word. Now, Stiles was starting to get worried again. What if his vocal cords were damaged? 

Derek reached a hand out, palm up, in a weird sort of high five equivalent without the enthusiasm one required, and so did Stiles. As their hands met sparks flew from each of his fingertips, uncontrolled, yet friendly. Derek’s eyes flashed red in recognition.

“Oh”. He’s an Alpha now. That’s why his family was so freaked out, that’s why Deaton didn’t want to elaborate. A packless, twelve year old Alpha. They were all scared of him. Stiles should be too, he realized. 

But his magic seemed to know something he didn’t, his spark recognized an ally, a friend and reached out to soothe him. He saw the Hales step back as his magic took a semi-corporal form of pale-blue mist and started poking and probing at Derek. Checking for injuries.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to.” Ok, so he could speak. Probably couldn’t stop growling, but I helped there. Let’s see what else is the matter.

“Shush. Let me.” His magic moved over Derek, going so far as to comb his hair into a semblance of what he typically wore, trying to find any wounds and aches it could soothe. It saw a gaping hole where pack acceptance should be, where an anchor should be.

For the first time, his magic paused, turning towards Stiles, asking permission in the only way it knew how. The Hales looked on with battered breath. As if Stiles would ever say no. Especially to the kindest wild wolf he knew.

He waives his magic forward and sees it filling the hole with itself, curling around a small creature of the wolf, no longer hiding his snout in his paws, but now chasing the pale mist around, yapping cheerfully.

For the first time ever, he is able to see the two planes of existence. The emotional plane is more difficult to comprehend than he ever thought, colors merging together without forming new ones, complex. And Derek speaks, before Stiles can even attempt to understand. 

“Stiles, can I?” He inches a millimeter closer to him, if that's even possible at this point.

He is quick to lower his head and turn his head to the left, offering his neck. Derek is slow and methodical in dragging his nose from the back of his ear to nearly his shoulder. When he finishes the one side, he puts his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, tilting his head to the other side, repeating the motions. He finishes it off with a forehead kiss and a whispered “Thank you”.

 

Stiles’ magic has never felt more settled. He feels Derek’s stability and it keeps him centered. He’s got this. And he’s not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr demon-hatchling :)
> 
> huge thanks to Raiven, who continues to be the best ^^


	4. Blink, the Wondrous Bear

**Derek**

 

When Derek was four he had an obsession with gummy bears. Different kinds, all kinds. He liked the yellow ones best. It went so far that he always had a few in his pocket and lasted so long that the smell of them- sugar, flavoring and rubber, started permeating all of his clothes and even his skin. Became a part of him.

Eventually, Laura got so annoyed that she threatened never to scent mark him again unless he gives his gummy bears up. She was ten, queen of the playground and always bossing people around.

Derek didn’t think she’d do it. They spent way too much time together and she needed scent marking as much as the next wolf, maybe even more, being the future Alpha, her skills always three steps ahead of normal development patterns. She’s always been special, Laura has.

But she persists. Goes to the other room as soon as Derek passes the threshold of her current one. Stubborn. Nothing describes Laura better than that word. Maybe pig-headed, but then again, pigs are too much of a prey to ever be even loosely connected to her.

Derek caves. He usually is the one that does. Easy to mold, obedient at training sessions, looking up to Laura, to mom, to dad, to everyone in sight with even a modest moral compass. Impressionable. He gives up his gummy bear addiction and finally gets his sister to hug him again.

He is yet to forgive her for that. She bought him a red teddy bear as an apology, with blue buttons for eyes and a green plastic nose; dressed in a little suit. Refused to call him anything other than Der-bear for years to come. Still does it sometimes.

Now, he scent marks Stiles for quite a long time, only stopping when Laura, the demon that she is, clears her throat pointedly from the doorway. “I think you made your point, Der-bear”

He feels more settled, at ease, even though he still doesn’t formally have a pack. Just a family and Stiles. Stiles does seem to be enough to anchor him for the time being. He wonders if this is what Laura hinted at a while back, them needing time. She always knows more than she lets on. She’s more Uncle Peter than the rest of them combined.

He wonders if the odd connection he felt with Stiles, going back years, always had to end like this, in mutual anchoring, or if it all is just fortuity.

“Are you hungry? You’ve been in the woods for quite some time. Come on, let’s get you something.” His mother moves on, like nothing is out of the ordinary.

Derek’s hackles almost rise at her ignoring of Stiles, but she is quick to continue, “That means you too, Stiles dear, we need to get some food in you.”

Stiles looks happy with the invite, and Derek is happy his almost pack-mate is happy, the need to provide comfort there, buzzing around his head. He still feels echoes of magic curling around his wolf. Or maybe even the magic itself; he’s not sure how this whole anchoring works. Never heard of a wolf being anchored by a mage before.

They go to the dining room together, a content feeling in the pit of Derek’s stomach. There’s peas and mashed potatoes, along with steak. He’s not a big fan of peas, but Stiles is happy to steal them off his plate and push a portion of the steak his way. “I don’t really like meat much.”

The look on the pack’s faces he gets in return is priceless. Uncle Peter looks like someone had hit him over the head with something and Cory’s mouth is gapping. It’s ridiculous, his family is ridiculous.

“There’s some leftover risotto, if you’d like.” His dad offers, “We didn’t know you were vegetarian.”

“Oh, I’m not”, Stiles says as he cuts into his steak, “I just don’t really like meat that much, but it’s ok sometimes.” His family seems stumped at that.

Stiles is also ridiculous. Everyone around Derek seems to be. He attracts crazy people, that’s the only possible conclusion.

Mom drives Stiles home after dinner and Derek goes to his room, exhausted. He has no trouble falling asleep for once, his bed softer than he remembers.

* * *

 

He wakes up, and doesn’t know which day it is. He wonders what his parents told the school and whether he’d need to go today. They’ll probably give him a few more days, but he should definitely drop Boyd a message and ask for homework. He doesn’t want to get too behind.

_D: Hey, do me a favor and send me this week’s hw?_

_B: NP. You ok?_

_D: Been a long week, explain later. Tnx._

_B: Sure._

His training routine will change now that he’s an Alpha, he knows, but he’s not sure how exactly. He still goes on his usual morning run, experiments with his speed a little, is happy to see he’s even faster than before.

Someone catches up to him, just as he’s nearing the pond near the house. “Slow down, Blink, my age is catching up to me.”

He laughs and throws himself at the source. “Grams, I didn’t know you were coming! Come on, let’s walk back!” Excitement colors his voice, mingling with surprise.

“Hm, maybe you would have if you hadn’t run off.” The comment is off-hand, vaguely critical yet soft, but Derek still feels like a scolded three-year-old.

“I panicked”, he is quick to explain. She should know this.

He started growling at Laura, for Merlin’s sake, it wasn’t like he ran away for no reason. And she didn’t even deserve it, past crimes none withstanding.

“I know, Blink, I understand. But you should have thought before you ran. I know you’re good at running, but it still shouldn’t be reflex. That’s not the way we raised you.” Her voice is still soft and she sounds tired and a bit sad. Now Derek just feels awful.

 

Grandma Olivia lived with them until Derek was ten, having moved away after giving Alphahood to mom. She could have stayed, but she and Grandpa Paul wanted to travel the world, an adventure they never got to go on.

So they went, and the pack would get a postcard from a new place every few months, sporadic Skype calls and a message here and there. They came back to the Americas the previous year, settling in Argentina, a town called La Plata near to the capital.

Derek and his sisters spent the previous summer holidays there, learning Spanish and basking in the sun, and their grandparents’ affection.

Grandpa Paul was a man of few words, just like Dad was, and he taught Derek fishing. Some of his favorite time spent in La Plata was spent on that small boat, named La Manada, the Pack, just enjoying the rays falling on his face and the silence.

 

“Did Grandpa come too?” If he did, they could go fishing and he can finally finish learning different sailor knots. The Trucker’s Hitch is still giving him trouble.

“I’m afraid not, Blinky. He might come by the end of the month, depending on our progress.”

“Progress?” There seems to be a reason other than plain worry bringing Grandma here. Huh. 

“You are an Alpha now, right?”, she waits for his nod before continuing, “That means different instincts and a completely different skill-set we need to train you for. It is a bit unorthodox that we do it after you came into power, but what can we do”, she ends in a shrug.

They're nearing the house now. “When do we start?” He loves learning new things, especially training, because it always came naturally to him. He was the best Beta in the pack, his Dad always quick to commend him.

“After lunch, so get your thinking gears in order. The first exercises are mental.” She winks at him before entering through the back door and gathering Mark from his high chair. She turns to him, hands full of toddler, throws Mark upwards and whispers “Catch”.

Instinctively, he runs towards Mark, who is a few feet ahead and a meter up, and gathers him in his arms. He giggles as Derek runs a hand through his hair, feeling the softness of the strands. “More, more, De’ek. Up.”

He frowns at the toddler before looking back at Grandma. “Oh don’t give me that look. Just checking. Your eyebrows will get stuck like that, you know. Now, off you go, to the showers with you.”

Well, training is going to be fun for sure. Something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the mess that is my schedule for tomorrow for the early update :) I hope it measures up.  
> We're still at the start of this journey and I'm overjoyed by your support. Thank you for your kind words, you guys are an inspiration.
> 
> <333 Raiven for putting up with my inconsistencies and wonderful words of support <3333
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr: demon-hatchling  
> I'll be waiting :D


	5. Train Insane or Remain the Same

**Stiles**  

Magic is a lot of work. The amount of work is directly proportional to the amount of power you have and apparently Stiles has a lot of it. He’s not sure if it’s so exhausting because he didn’t get the hang of it yet or if it’s always going to stay this way, but he sure is hoping it’s the former.

Latin and meditation were difficult on their own, but , “Greek, Dad. He wants me to learn Greek! And, ok, I understand why I need the mythology part and everything and that’s also pretty cool. Like get this, you’ve heard about Medusa, right? The lady with the crazy snake hair turning people into stone? Yeah, well according to one version of her creation, she was born extremely beautiful and was only transformed into a monster after being raped in the temple of Athena. And by who? Poseidon of all people. Or Gods, I guess. Gods would be more appropriate here.”

“And then, then Athena got super angry, right? Went into a humongous jealous frenzy and cursed Medusa, turning her into the sea monster she is now known as. Talk about victim blaming!”

“Stiles, breathe.” His father interrupted “We were talking about you having to learn Greek.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, well Deaton says because a lot of the mythical creatures are real and roaming around I should be able to do my own reading on them. And since there are too many varying translations of original sources, which would make finding the right information too hard, he wants me to learn Greek.”

His tone was starting to get a bit whiny at the end there. He liked learning, loved it even, especially when it encompassed all these tales of woes and troubles, and quests and heroes, but languages were hard. His Latin was still not even in the vicinity of passable and now he had to start Greek as well.

Add to that the fact that he was going back to school and doing training, and you might start thinking Deaton was trying to kill him. Straight up smother him in information. Or knowledge. Which ever.

His father sighed and his forehead got all crinkly, as it usually did after a tirade of information dumped at his feet. “You know it’s important, kiddo, but I’ll talk to Deaton and see if we can lighten the load a little bit. Special circumstances and all.”

And this right here is why his dad is the best. Tell him you’re struggling with studying and he says he’ll talk to Deaton. Tell him you’re ready for school and he talks with the administration. Tell him you’re anchored to a newly formed Alpha and he will sigh and mumble “Only you, kid.”

But he still adjusted very well to it all. Even drove Stiles to the preserve every afternoon and drank coffee with Mrs. Talia while Derek and he trained with Grandma Olivia, and sometimes other members of the pack, out back.

The first couple of their training sessions were supervised by Deaton. He wanted to make sure what everyone saw was real, not taking anyone’s word for it. The first time he was there he sent a few simple spells Derek’s way and even smiled a little when he saw them bouncing off, a small shield appearing in front of Derek every time.

Over the course of following sessions he tried to catch them unaware, sending spells Derek’s way when neither of them were expecting it. But Stiles’ magic never let the little barbs near Derek, destroying them before they reached their destination.

The training sessions were something Stiles definitely looked forward to. They consisted of three major parts. The first, and most interesting intellectually, was werewolf history and Hale history part. This is where Uncle Peter and Aunt Rose would open up the archaic looking family album and go over each and every member of the Hale family, starting from Oliver Hale, the person who started the Hale dynasty.

They’re not even a third into the book yet and Stiles finds it all so fascinating, especially considering that back then no one knew of magic and magical creatures and everything needed to be kept secret.

It’s amazing things weren’t found out before, he ponders, when he hears the story of Elias Hale and his ten-month struggle with controlling his shift after losing his wife to hunters. Apparently, he worked in the City Council’s office and would randomly wolf out at meetings. People were all too happy to call him a prankster and be done with it. People are weird.

The second part of the sessions was much more physical, he was learning mixed martial arts with Cory, while Laura chased Derek around egging him on. Cory was terrifyingly good and wasn’t going easy on him at all. Under the watchful eye of Grandma Olivia he tried to perfect his ground and pound.

The third part of the sessions were his ultimate favorite, it was just Derek-and-him time. Officially, it was part of training, but in reality it was just the two of them hanging out. Sometimes they watched TV, or played games- Derek was the best at Mario Kart, or just sat and talked.

Derek was pretty cool, and his friends were also nice. Stiles got to meet Boyd, who was silent for the most part, but was happy to help Stiles with his math homework when he needed it, so he was alright in his book. Erica came next- a very tall girl with long blond hair, curls framing her face. She was a bit shy as well, like most wolves are around new people, but seemed to warm up to Stiles after he mentioned his love of Batman.

Sometimes the two of them would join Stiles and Derek, usually that’s when the board games came out. Monopoly was Stiles’ game, his negotiation skills (or whining ones, depending on who you ask) always got him the most property, while Risk was something more up Derek’s alley, strategy coming easy to him.

Stiles’ schedule is more than a bit hectic once he gets back to school. He’s in school till the afternoon, after which he had the training session with the Hales. Mondays and Thursdays are magic control days at Deaton’s. On his nights off he still has tons of magic homework, on top of the regular kind.

Weekends are a bit better.

Saturday night is Stiles-and-dad night and it’s just as awesome as the title suggests. Dad doesn’t work and they do a movie marathon with pizza and popcorn. It’s a standing tradition of sorts. Usually, Stiles eats too much pizza and way too many Reese’s cups to be considered healthy, and it is amazing.

Sunday is his day; he gets to do whatever he wants, in theory at least. More often than not he spends at least part of it catching up with his translations and language studies; that still being the most challenging aspect of his new life.

The afternoon is reserved for Scott, a leftover tradition from forever ago. Scott hasn’t been the greatest in understanding Stiles’ now full social calendar, but they’re working on it. Which mostly means Stiles is trying his damnest to find more time just for bro time. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

And so life goes; a busy blur of the Hales, studying, his dad and Scott. He doesn’t even notice his ADHD untangling from his magic, burning out bit by bit, until Deaton commends his control, praises his meditation exercises. It’s both a relief and a trial of a new kind.

Most nights when dad is on shift, which is more nights that he can count, he feels like the old Stiles, mom’s Grzegorz, is slipping away from him, leaving a completely new person behind. It’s only been two years and the thought scares him. He still uses the lullaby to rock himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raiven is a Goddess who walks the Earth <3
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for your support guys, you've been great ^^
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr, I'd love to hear your thoughts: demon-hatchling :)


	6. Unnerving Presence

**Derek**  

Being an Alpha is like being a Beta, but more and somehow less. More power, more instinct, more sense-overload; less control, less stability, less pack. It’s a tangled mess in his head; unknotting it would take ages.

Grandma takes over his training. Derek feels a bit sad that she has to uproot her whole life to move back to Beacon Hills, but he missed her and Grandpa too much to feel too bad about it. In secret, he’s a bit proud they came back because of him.

The physical aspects of the training don’t change much, and scenting is way easier than before, so he’s happy. Cora started training with him, because Laura is back at Uni and even if she wasn’t, being in the same room with her is now hard.

They still Skype and text, and over the call/text nothing feels changed, even though everything is. He doesn’t have to think about the fact that Laura is the heir and there’s no room for him in her pack. They graze over what happened and go on like everything is normal. A bandage slapped on a wound that keeps opening.

The mental exercises are a challenge. The ultimate goal is getting him to shift to full-Alpha form, something not even Laura has accomplished yet.

At first Grams wants him to concentrate on breathing. He stands in the middle of the preserve counting the breaths of each and every pack member, and recording the pace of them.

“Breath is always first to change and to give things away. Even for a nanosecond. You need to be aware at all times.”

So he concentrates, lets the wind do its thing and isolates the small gusts of air leaving his family’s mouths. His own breath seems loud in his head; he’s panting and it’s like a drum-set took residence in his head.

Cora is easiest to isolate, partially because they’ve grown closer now that Laura is away for school and she finally outgrew her princess party phase-which was a taxing experience everyone wanted over sooner rather than later; and partially because her breathing is faster than any of the others’, tiny heart beating always a beat faster, breath following close behind.

He’s still trying to not pay attention to the heart, just the breathing, and it’s the work of Sisyphus. He doesn’t know how to turn his ears off, how to channel that energy to one specific thing, or how to tune things out.

The second time he fails, he gets so angry that he demolishes three trees. Grandma is far from impressed.

It soon becomes apparent to both of them that it’s much easier for him to concentrate with Stiles there, so they move the strengthening exercises so that they line up with Stiles’ were-history lesson. Derek still can’t hone his senses in the way Grams wants him to, but at least he doesn’t murder any trees in the process.

Stiles’ time with the pack is a new feature; one Derek is not sure how he feels about. He likes the boy fine, even though he talks too much and looks like he might fall over at any time, flailing limbs and sharp bones.

He’s not sure if he likes the effect Stiles has on him. Every time he’s near Derek feels more in control, more stable. And he knows you’re not supposed to look a gifted horse in the mouth, but it’s a bit of a downer knowing that all his hard work matters not when Stiles is there to fix him.

He doesn’t tell anyone, but Stiles scares him a bit. Or he scares himself, when he starts thinking of where he would be if not for the boy. It’s terrifying to consider. So he tries not to.

Instead, he works on becoming friends with him. Which is surprisingly easy, considering the age difference. There are some games they can’t play because the Sheriff doesn’t allow it, but everything else is pretty easy. Mostly they get stuck with babysitting duty, because Cory loves Mark for all she’s worth, but nobody trust her to babysit after she leaves him at the grocery store “On accident, Dad, I swear”. Uncle Peter is not amused and Cory is no longer allowed to babysit unsupervised.

Since Derek practically has an extra limb in form of Cora from the moment of her birth, he is deemed the safest babysitting option. Mark is an easy toddler, willing to get distracted and not very demanding, which is both in stark contrast to both his parents and in line with Derek’s easy going personality.

Cora is still not allowed to be by herself, so Derek is taking care of her as well, which the rebellious phase she has entered is not making easy. She likes to go off by herself ‘exploring the woods’, claiming there were nymphs she made friends with. Derek spends half his time running after her.

After the grocery store misdemeanor, Cory preferres to stick close to the rest of the pack kids, mostly because she’d be all alone if she didn’t now that Derek is put in charge of both Cora and Mark. She takes it all in stride, and talks Stiles’ ear off when he joins the growing bunch; speaking of social hierarchy, a girl named Lydia and lacrosse- the most pointless of all sports.

Home is never boring.

He is scared that he won't be allowed to go to school till he can control his wolf better. But Stiles takes care of that, the magic always keeping the wolf distracted enough for Derek to pull him back in. He is there even when he isn't. It's frustrating.

Boyd and Erica deserve awards for putting up with his shifts in mood those first couple of months.

He’d get distracted by a single fly buzzing past their window, lose track of what’s happening, get annoyed at himself, annoyance would swiftly move to anger and his red eyes would made an appearance till he could reign it in. Most people in his class gave him a wide birth. Boyd would just stare at him until he was back to normal and then carry on like nothing was amiss. Erica took a more violent approach, choosing to pinch him every time she saw even a glimpse of red in his eyes. He healed, but those things still hurt.

Cory’s birthday is coming up and Uncle Peter wants to make it a huge affair, while also keeping it secret from her. As if. Derek’s only going with it because Stiles’ birthday is two days after Cory’s and he wants to surprise him with a party of his own.

Under the ruse of getting help for Cory’s party, he finds out all he didn’t know about Stiles’ party preferences and gets all his ducks in order.

First, the Sheriff.

He goes to the police station, bringing donuts and the mint tea the Sheriff seems to like so much as bargaining chips, squares his shoulders and tells the receptionist he’s here for the Sheriff. She quirks her lips in silent amusement and waves him in

“Derek, did something happen?” No wonder the Sheriff is anxious, He’s never done this before; should do this more.

“No, no. I just wanted to talk to you. I brought you this,” he slides the donut box toward him and places the travel mug carefully on his desk.

The Sheriff seems surprised, but pleasantly so, the little twinkle in his eye betraying that he doesn’t believe for a second Derek doesn’t have hidden motives. Which he does. So, points.

He just raises his eyebrows at Derek, happy to wait him out.

“Um, sir. Uncle Peter is organizing a party for Cory and I wanted to organize something for Stiles. For his birthday. If that’s ok?” He trails off a bit. He’s nervous. He’s not that good with words under normal circumstances. It’s unnerving to have someone in a police officer’s uniform stare at you without blinking. He doesn’t understand how criminals do it.

Luckily for Derek, the Sheriff looks amused more than anything, a bit of surprise mixing in. “What did you have in mind? Stiles doesn’t really do well with parties.”

“No, no, I know. Not really a party. Just laser tag and milkshakes. And then a small gathering with cake at my house after. Is that ok?”

“It’s ok.”

“Great” He takes out the binder with all the details of what he had in mind and waits patiently for the Sheriff to take it. “Everything is outlined here, you can message me if you have any questions. Just please don’t do it while Stiles is over at our house, I want to keep it a surprise.”

The Sheriff looks baffled. “You have a binder. Somehow I think I should be more surprised at that.” He sighs, but looks happy. Derek takes it as a win.

“Sit down, Derek, have a donut.”

 

Derek sits down and a new tradition starts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late- I had an exam yesterday and crashed after *hides in shame*
> 
> Big thanks to Raiven, for continuing to put up with my scrabbles and a huge one to you guys for reading them and sending love & positivity my way <333
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr: demon-hatchling


	7. An Oak

**Stiles**

He gets home late, because training ran long today, Uncle Peter’s tale of Hale ties expanding, knotting and weaving together into a semblance of a spider web. Every time he thinks he has everything down, that he remembers the intricacies, a new Cordelius or Olivia turn up; family names too colored in blood yet a part of the history as much, if not more, than the last name itself.

He keeps mixing up Cordelius, son of Clark who fought first line when magic and werewolves exploded in everyone’s faces, with Cordelius, son of Leland, who was the first Hale Alpha to ever align with the town mages, with Stiles’ family. 

The explosion thing is pretty literal: there was a huge fight between Lisa, Mage of Stirling, two towns over from Beacon Hills and the Erandus pack, closely allied with the Hales. The origin of the fight is unknown to this date, crazy tales and rumors all over the place, nothing substantial to tie anything together, but the ending of it all is now a part of every wolf’s history.

Lisa went a bit off the rails, driven madness by howling (according to one rumor) and started using the power of nearby covens, one by one, so that she could ensure victory. She waited until the moon was in waxing gibbous stage, the full moon too close and every were a bit worn by it before striking the pack.

She first went after the Emissary, deeming them the biggest competition and then went through the pack one by one: starting with the youngest son, a 7-year-old, and ending with Mort, the Alpha. After she had killed the pack, she obtained enough power to go nuclear, the kills being sacrifices to her beloved Nameton. She wanted to be the most powerful being existing. The amount of power absorbed wiped the whole town in a massive explosion. She died in the process and magic was revealed to all.

Even the government couldn’t cover up a whole town disappearing and then re-appearing when neighboring mages and alphas, united, fought to restore it. Cordelius worked out the plan and manned the front attack, therefore solidifying the Hale family name, making them the go-to for any type of disagreement or quarrel. Their role as mediators remains to this day.

By the time the story of the way is done there is no one to drive Stiles home. Mrs Talia and Mr Aaron are at work and Aunt Rose took Cory to basketball practice. Theoretically, Uncle Peter could drive him while Derek babysits, but for some reason Uncle Peter is pretty wary of cars, which means Stiles is stuck riding his bike home.

It’s dark when he arrives, locking the bike back in the garage. He started locking the little padlock even when home after his old bike was stolen. Dad says it’s silly because no one would steal from the Sheriff’s house, but Stiles maintains that they already did from the Sheriff’s kid; he’s not risking it.

He enters the house only to find it empty, a note on the fridge saying that Dad was called in. Odd, he should have gotten off shift only 2 hours ago. Something big must have happened if they called him in right after his shift. Curious, he vows to get it out of his dad as soon as possible.

Dinner is not ready, but the oven is still warm, so his dad must have left recently. In any case, he ate at the Hales, so he’s not that hungry. He stomps to his room and throws himself on the bed.

Derek was acting weird today. His grumpiness reached new levels and the frown didn’t leave his face even once the whole afternoon Stiles was there. Luckily, today was not a Stiles-and-Derek session day, so they didn’t really spend much time together. Stiles only knows he was frowning because he was looking through the window while Uncle Peter was talking.

There was no Grandma Olivia in sight today, just Derek and he seemed too on-edge to function. Which made no sense. The full moon was a week ago, so that’s definitely not the reason.

They crossed paths only once, which is unprecedented, and not only did Derek decide not to scent mark him, he didn’t even wave back. His frown just deepened and he retreated from the kitchen. Stiles heard Uncle Peter tsk, but his face was back in neutral by the time he turn to him. He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to know.

The question was at the tip of his tongue and Uncle Peter even looked put-out, like he expected a Derek-centered line of questioning, before he decided not to ask. Derek can be a grumpywolf all he wants, Stiles doesn’t care. Well, he does care, but he will respect that grumpy need.

He’s trying to give him space since the birthday party he had planned didn’t turn out the way he wanted it. It was still great, had laser tag and milkshakes and all of Stiles’ favorite people in one place. But Stiles wanted to spent the night glued to Derek’s side, mostly because he was extremely grateful to him for pulling the whole thing off, and Derek's mood kept worsening the more Stiles talked to him. The night ended with a screaming match.

Can you even call it a match if only one side is screaming? In any case, Derek was yelling about needing room to breathe and magic not being a magical fix-all and told him to stop butting in everywhere. Which is so contradictory to his actions that Stiles was too stumped to even say anything. He just asked dad if they could go home and was in bed 20 minutes later.

Uncle Peter looked a bit confused when Stiles’ question had nothing to do with Derek, focusing rather on Lisa’s potential ties with Mort, the Erandus pack Alpha. He recovered quickly, going into an explanation of Erandus pack dynamics, while Stiles continued to sip his water.

Stiles roles over and looks up to his shelf. He’s finally caught up with school homework (which basically means he is two weeks ahead) and only has one paper due next month to write, his mediation has improved and he can just work on it a bit before bed, and all of his translations are done, he handed them over to Deaton to check.

He does have around a dozen of new spells to try out, but over a half of them should be done outside and it’s getting pretty dark, so that’s out of the question. And he does have some reading to do before his class with Deaton tomorrow; Slavic myths and Talasons to be exact, but the translations were more than a bit wacky and he couldn’t be bothered with that right now.

Up on the shelf stood the old train he got from his grandpa the one time he saw him. He was four at the time and doesn’t really remember much of anything. Just glimpses of white hair and a colorful presence that took up his room after.

Wanting to try something new out he whispers “Volito” and the train starts hovering above the shelf. Unsatisfied, he wants it to move and not just float, he says “Praevollo”, voice more certain. The train lets out a scratchy sound and starts flying towards him. He manages to duck in time and turn to see it slamming into Derek, who’s just not entering through the window.

“We have a door for that.” He can’t help the small stab of satisfaction that follows the collision of the train with the boy, even though the train lays in remains scattered on the floor and Derek doesn’t look any worse for wear.

“I am aware”, comes the reply, feet shuffling closer to him before standing at his desk.

He still looks grumpy, frowny and angry. Surly. Stiles’ mood worsens just by looking at him. Derek just stares at him, waiting “Well”.

“Well what? You’ve gotta use your words Derek. Words and doors, that’s what people use.” He guesses Derek is sorry for avoiding him today, assumes he just had a bad day, but for some reason can’t make himself more friendly. He feels prickly.

“I met a someone today. Her name is Paige.”

Stiles stares. Waits for Derek to continue. When he doesn’t, prompts “So?”

“Mom says I need your official permission to ask her out.” He gets it out in a rush, looking anywhere but at Stiles, gaze settling and lingering one inch above his forehead.

“Why?” Now this is a question he really wants answering. He knows something is fishy in this whole situation, there have been no recorded cases of a mage replacing an Alpha’s entire anchor, not even adult, settled Alphas. He knows it’s not normal that his magic protects Derek at all times, even when he’s not looking; instinctively knowing he’s in danger. Knows there’s a lot edited out of the parts of the Hale Bestiary he’s been privy to so far. Being eleven doesn’t make him stupid. He knows all of this is too much and too unusual and too unstable and too something, knows that all adults become shifty eyed when he asks them. So he asks Derek, sensing he doesn’t understand this whole thing either.

“Why not. Look, will you tell me it’s ok and I can go.” Derek is slipping into anger mode fast. His eyes have glimpses of red in them and he’s fidgeting; throwing a box of paperclips from one hand to the other.

“Ostende mihi faciem sphaeram”, Stiles says before the space around Derek explodes into colors. Normally, he can look at Derek’s aura all day, but now there’s too much of grey and purple in the mix, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Stiles, stop that” Derek growls at him, fangs extending and claws appearing. “You know I hate it when you do that” Sparks of red appear, to go along with the red of Derek’s eyes.

“Desino”, he whispers, getting to his feet. He needs to move and maybe sorta destroy some stuff.

He’s vaguely aware that Derek is following him as he goes downstairs, heading towards the back door. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, I saw nothing. You can go now. Permission granted. Leave.” 

There’s a surge of negative energy filling him and he feels unbalanced, like he hasn’t since he met Derek, his kind wild wolf. His. What? Not his. He’s a person, wolf, whatever and there are millions of books written about the negativity of owning someone.

Derek is his own. And if he wants to go off with some girl and spend all his time with her instead and take both himself and his friends out of Stiles’ life, he’s fine with that. Totally cool. He’ll just spend more time with Scott. Plus, he’ll have more time for Deaton’s lessons and they’re more useful than anything he learned in Derek-sessions.

Thinking of the spells he ought to try out, one stands out, and now’s the perfect time, he can feel that he has enough power to do it right. Nodding to himself, he starts clearing his head, making way for pure belief. That’s 70% of the spell. The rest is practice.

He closes his eyes. Focuses. “Imber apparebit” Looks over at Derek to see if it worked. Smirks when he realizes it did. “Rain to go with the mood”, he full on grins now, “Go home, Derek. Tell Uncle Peter I’m skipping tomorrow. Okay? Mhm, k, great, I’m gonna go lie down now.”

He goes back into the house and leaves Derek standing under a just-for-him raincloud, drenched in the rain. Feels a bit better now that he got a bit of the excess energy out, but still too wound-up to sleep.

He hears loud laughter from the back yard. Seems like the Hales are here. Wanting to ignore them, but not wanting to be rude, he stumbles back out into the yard.

Mr Aaron is first to spot him, throwing a smile his way. “Now Stiles, would you mind taking your rain cloud back” There’s laughter in his voice and Stiles is glad at least someone finds this all amusing. Mrs Talia looks less than amused, the frown marring her face akin her sons’.

“Sure”, he shrugs and continues in almost the same breath, “Imber desino”. The cloud goes away, leaving Derek much like he let Stiles feel the entire day. With the energy needed to sustain the cloud not being used anymore, Stiles feels more on edge than ever and yellow sparks shoot from the tips of his fingers, thankfully aimed at the floor.

The grass wilts and in less than a second there’s a small brown hole in its place. Stiles can’t see how deep it is. His head hurts.

He sees Derek’s parents exchange looks and feels Derek moving towards him. Reaches out a hand. “I’m sorry to be impolite, but could you please leave now. I really should be getting back to my reading and the graphs have been giving me trouble, so I should look that over too. And bedtime is fast approaching, you know how it is. I’ll see you all soon, ok?”

He tries to retreat, but Mrs Talia’s hand on his shoulder stops him. “What happened here?” She’s in Alpha mode and Derek shuffles back and whines, low in his throat, eyes red.

“Nothing, nothing happened. Why would you think anything happened? Derek was just being his usual, well more than usual, grumpy self and I got sick of it so I gave him a cloud to match his mood. Parting gift, you know. That is the custom, is it not, Alpha Hale?”

He’s never addressed her using her full title before and he can see that she is startled, though she hides it fast and well. Derek is wolfed out completely now, continuous grumbling coming from his direction.

“I see. And the anchor?” The question is softer, hesitant, and Stiles longs for a mother who cares that much and is alive and present and here.

“Hmm, funny story. Two anchors. Separate ones. He’ll be completely fine. Ask Deaton if you don’t believe me. My magic will mimic it until a time comes when it is no longer necessary. That’s a given of course. So you don’t need to worry.” He getting anxious and he really wants them to leave, right now, twenty minutes ago.

“And you?” Mr Aaron doesn’t look as amused before, a worried look coming over his face. And what is it with this people and their ridiculous frowny eyebrows. One would think someone died. Oh, right. Someone did die. His mom. Right.

He’s overcome with the urge so great, he doesn’t even attempt to stop it. Almost without conscious thought, he points both his hands toward the brown patch marking where grass used to be. Belief, Grzegorz, that’s all it takes. That’s what magic is made out of.

The Hales move slowly backwards, as red light shoots from his hands. Red can mean love, stability, power; it doesn’t always mean anger and resentment. Depends on the shade. That’s the first thing Deaton taught him, how to distinguish the good from the bad.

An oak tree springs from the ground, roots settling bellow the foundation and downwards, Stiles’ focus on stability stronger than any desire he’d ever had. It’s three meters tall before it stops growing, branches expanding over their heads. Something is carved in it, deeper than any carving ought to be, forming a hollow within. Some kind of shape. Stiles moves closer, realizes it’s the triskalion, the Hale triskalion; rolls his eyes- Of course it is.

The Hales move closer now, wanting to see, to touch. “This will do” His voice is deeper than he remembers it being. He wonders how he will explain the massive growth of a tree to his dad. Maybe he won’t notice.

“Stiles, I didn’t say I renounce it. I didn’t say to sever the bond. I didn’t.” Derek is staring at the triskale, mesmerized, hands reaching out towards it. He traces it with his fingers, leans against the tree. As much as he couldn’t look at Stiles the whole day today, now it seems like he can’t look away.

“You didn’t have to. I read it.” Feeling suddenly drained, he goes inside and straight to bed, still wearing his clothes. He’ll deal with everything in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Oh, what a tangled web we weave ... (who can finish that quote without googling it first?) Impress me ^^
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, on Thursday we'll see what Derek has to say about everything.
> 
> Thank you for reading, leaving comments and kudos, it means the world <333
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr: demon-hatchling


	8. Fixer Upper

**Derek**

He doesn’t say a word the whole ride home. He can see his parents exchanging looks, but is too drained to even begin to decipher them. He was just trying to make a point and instead he messed everything up.

The scent of Stiles’ sorrow is still in his nostrils. He wants to tear his nose off, to stop smelling, to stop feeling. It was stupid. A stupid comment Laura made “That’s because he’s your mate, idiot”. He doesn’t believe in mates. Didn’t. Whatever, semantics, doesn’t even matter anymore. Even if he did and it was true, Stiles sure as hell wouldn’t want to be his. Not after tonight.

He had also felt resignation wafting off him, moles illuminated by the back-porch light. Resignation and determination. Surely a strange combination, but if anyone could pull it off it would be Stiles. The next thing he knew there was an enormous oak tree in the Stilinskis’ back garden with the Hale pack symbol engraved and his connection to Stiles turned strangely one-sided.

Stiles didn’t even want to listen to him, didn’t even listen; just took, always took without asking. Came into his life and took the place of his family as an anchor. Uninvited, became ingrained in the pack so much that it’s apparent he’s Uncle Peter’s favorite. Unwanted, started to be as important to Derek as breathing, because him not being there means instability.

It’s sick and it’s codependent and they’re fucking kids, what the hell is Laura even talking about. What does she even know, about anything? More than Derek. Everyone always seems to know more, to smirk at him and throw meaningful glances his way. He’s so fucking sick of it, it’s not even funny.

Boyd and Erica just adjusted with having Stiles around all the time. And he couldn’t. Stiles is just so loud, so obnoxious, asks the strangest questions, looks at him like he has all the answers. And he doesn’t, doesn’t even know the tenth of what he’s supposed to.

Paige is easy. She’s his age, so he doesn’t feel like the biggest creep to ever exist (even though he doesn’t even think of Stiles that way, barely even thinks of anyone that way). And she’s beautiful, has these eyes he can write sonnets about. She’s quiet where Stiles is loud, and gracious where he is clumsy and is practically the exact opposite of him in every way imaginable. Not brash, not annoying, not-Stiles.

She’s just not-Stiles enough that he wants to spend more time with her. Bask in the glory of her not-Stilesness. He’s enamored more with the fact that he knows his family would not like her, might not even stand her, than the girl herself. He knows it’s not fair, but damn it, he just wants one thing for himself.

And he knows it’s selfish, God! Ok?! He knows. He just doesn’t really care.

Or didn’t. Past tense is more appropriate here. Because he didn’t expect the look on Stiles face when he asked for permission. Ok, demanded, but whatever. For a second, before his face went completely blank, there was a look of profound hurt. And Derek put that there. On the face of a person who saved him.

He doesn’t know how to fix it. Stiles decided to cut the bond in half, to remove Derek as his anchor before Derek could remove himself, preparing for rejection and acting on autopilot at the first sign of it. He feels as if this was a contingency plan all along. Wonders how many hours of research Stiles had to put in to figure out a way to stabilize his magic without Derek. Wonders if he was expecting him to sever the bond from the start.

Neither of them understand the connection they share and no one is willing to sit down and talk to them about it. The adults around them have become too proficient at dodging questions and never answering them completely, always leaving sentences hanging and silences un-filled.

If Laura is right and this is, was, a mate-bond. But no, that’s impossible. Mate-bonds are a myth. A silly myth humans believe when they want to claim they understand the universe. ‘Werewolves mate for life, did you know?’ It’s one of those alternative facts that gets thrown back and forth in various arguments, but fact of the matter is there has never been a case of a mate-bond in recorded history.

Suddenly, his dad slams on the breaks and he stumbles forward. Both his parents are in their wolf forms, mom’s even gone full-wolf. He shifts on instinct and then becomes slowly more aware of his surroundings.

Blood. The smell of it is pungent and he recoils. It’s human for sure, and there’s a lot of it. Have they stumbled across a dead body? He really doesn’t want to see another dead body, thanks. Still has nightmares of a dead were lying at his feet, dead at his hand.

Mom jumps from the window and dad’s not far behind. They want him to run home, but he wants to help, as much as he’s able to. Last time he ran all hell broke loose.

In the clearing, not ten meters from the road there is a swarm of flies running circles around a body floating in air. No, not a body. A person. They’re still alive.

It’s a boy, Derek notices, dirty blond curls matted to his head and ragged clothes. He has bruises of various colors on different visible body parts, and a deep cut in his thigh- the source of all the blood. He doesn’t seem to be conscious.

Mom howls and the flies disappear. Into thin air. Just like that. As soon as they’re gone, the boy crumples to the grass bellow, as if they were the ones holding him captive there. He’s human, not a trace of magic on him. 

Dad is careful in picking him up. He shifts back to his human form and tells Derek to go home, while they take the boy to the hospital. Adrenaline leaving his system, Derek just agrees. A shrug and a nod.

To Stiles: _Can we talk? Please? You misunderstood._

To Stiles: _Look, Laura said something and I freaked. I don’t know what you sensed, but please talk  to me._

To Stiles: _Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. I will do this until you answer._

From Stiles: _Let me sleep. Talk tomorrow._

To Stiles: _Promise?_

From Stiles: _Promise._

To Stiles: _Night, Cap. Your favorite wolf will bring you breakfast._

From Stiles: _Cora is coming too? Sweet! Also, Batman wipes the floor with Cap. Don’t even._

To Stiles: _You’re not funny. And you’re not right._

From Stiles: _I so am. Night, grumpywolf._

He doesn’t seem angry now. Maybe he could still fix things. Now he just needs to make breakfast perfect, write down a few point so not to mess up the explanation and get Aunt Rose to agree to make fruit pizza, because Stiles is weird enough to like it.

Lucky for him, she’s still up when he enters the house, reading in the living room with her feet in Uncle Peter’s lap, while he’s trying and failing at not falling asleep.

“Aunt Rose? I did something really stupid and Stiles is mad at me, but I can fix it with your fruit pizza, maybe. Can you make it?”

“What did you do Der? What happened? Are you ok? You look like you might be getting sick. Let me put on the kettle and make you a cup of tea, ok? Alright!”

He rushes to stop her. “No, no, I’m ok. Not sick. I just…” he’s not sure how to phrase it and not sound like a complete jerk, and lunatic. But Aunt Rose married Uncle Peter, she must be fine with crazy, he reminds himself and carries on “I tested the bond, a bit. A lot. And Stiles freaked out and he cut it. Well, cut his half. Made me someone non-important, I guess. I’m not his anchor anymore.”

Somehow, saying it out loud makes it worse. Logically, he knows it shouldn’t but feelings are not rational or so it seems. He gets a strong urge to cry all of the sudden. To go and crawl under the covers and never come out. He’s so stupid, he’s such an idiot.

Another, stronger, more overwhelming instinct is to run. A year ago, hell a few months ago he’d be half way to New York by now. Would be banging on Laura’s door come morning. Asking for help, guidance, an explanation, an apology. But that’s a leftover instinct of before, running to Laura. From back when he could still be in the same room with her without going ballistic.

He feels a rush of magic roll over him and calms. Stiles’ magic. Always fixing him. Always having to fix him.

His aunt is looking at him strangely. He sees that she wants to lecture him, but at the same time feels too sorry to. Can’t quite bring herself to do it.

“Yes, I can make them. What time do you want them ready?”

“Seven will do. Thank you.”

“Off to bed with you then. You’ve got your work set out for you tomorrow. Better get some rest”

He gives her a quick hug and starts climbing the stairs. Hears her wake Uncle Peter up and them heading off to bed as well. He hears Cory’s sleepy mumbles, Marks’s deep breaths and Cora’s fast heartbeat. The loose floorboard next to his bed creeks when he steps on it. The house is as it always was. He’s the one that changed.

He drifts off sometime after midnight, restless. Kicks and twists and turns in his sleeps. Dreams of fairies chasing after him, sent by Laura and Cora, her second, to run him off the territory. Dreams of dropping to his knees and pleading, of blood and instinct and not having anywhere to run.

He wakes up at 5am, drenched and breathing heavily. He hasn’t been getting any rest for some time now, nothing too unusual. Some of the Alpha’s memories were passed to him in the process of the kills. That’s what he dreams of when he’s not dreaming of family abandonment.

The previous night it had been the Alpha, Kali, laughing as she sliced a three-year-old girl in half absorbing the alpha spark she had inherited from her family. When he woke up he went and stood right next to Mark’s crib and just watched him. He is safe, he is healthy, it’s all good.

Shaking his head, he comes back to the present. Shower then Stiles, he decides. Doesn’t know what he will say or do, but knows he has to do something, has to fix things at least once. It’s not fair that Stiles gets to do all the fixing.

He can’t quite help it, he’s a screw-up through and through. Even messed up the birthday party he spent three weeks planning. When it comes to Stiles he gets a little irrational, instinct kicking in and sending him mixed signals. He’s pack, but he’s not. He’s overbearing, but he can’t spent a day without him, can’t bring himself to stop him when he’s talking.

He’s trying to give him space and Derek is thankful and resentful once again. Because everything comes so naturally to Stiles, he has all the answers. His magic leading the way, a safe haven in the storm. All Derek has is his wolf, too out of control to be counted on, and his words, that he’s not good at on a good day.

By the time he’s out of the shower he can hear smell food cooking. He walks into the kitchen to find Aunt Rose at the stove and Uncle Peter trying to get Mark to eat. It’s peas, and Mark is not a fan. Stiles likes peas, he remembers. Shakes his head to clear it.

“Can I get a ride?” The question is aimed at both of them, but they’re all aware that Aunt Rose will be the one driving him. Uncle Peter hasn’t gotten in a car since college, always a new story when they ask why. He prefers to run and fly.

“Sure, do you want to wait for your parents?”

“They’re not back yet?” He completely forgot about the bleeding boy in the forest. If mom and dad are not back yet it must have been something serious. Is it a new attack? A demonstration of power? He tries to remember when rivaling packs used a similar strategy of attack, but falls short. No one has anything to gain by having outsiders bleed.

“They just called. They’re on their way home. Not going to work today.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll talk to them later. Can we go now?”

Aunt Rose drops a kiss on both Mark’s and Uncle Peter’s forehead and motions for him to follow. Now that they’re actually heading to Stiles’ house, he’s starting to get really nervous. His hands are sweating and he’s definitely forgetting how to breathe right.

She looks over at him, clearly worried and he’s scared she’s going to turn the car around. Instead, she murmurs “Count with me, Der”. It’s one of the full-moon exercises and it miraculously works now too.

Before he knows it, they’re in the Stilinski’s driveway. He turns and gives his aunt a long hug, mutters thanks into her hair. “I’ll run home after.”

“Make good choices.” He hears her say, before driving off. She’s going in the opposite direction of their house, must be going to the store then.

Should he ring the doorbell? He probably should. But what if the Sheriff is sleeping? He doesn’t want to wake him. Plus, Stiles is kind of amusing when he gets all upset over him using the window. Window it is. 

He knocks this time. Stiles is awake, sitting at his desk, back turned to him. When he hears the knock he slowly turns and gives a slight nod. It’s enough incentive for Derek to open the window and slip in.

He puts the plate with the fruit pizza on the desk, under Stiles’ watchful eyes and moves back to stand next to the window.

“Hi”

“At least you knocked today” He used some kind of spell to mess with his senses, he can’t scent how he’s feeling, can’t smell him at all. It’s driving his wolf crazy. He turns to the window to try to calm down, tries counting again.

A hand on his arm startles him. “Don’t leave.”

“I wasn’t going to. I can’t smell you. I need to calm down.”

Stiles takes a few steps back, looking a bit chagrined. “No, no, I’m not saying it’s your fault”, fuck, the words are turning against him again, “Just give me a sec, ok?”

“Desino” And he can suddenly feel everything. Smells anger and sadness, with an overlying scent of guilt. But Stiles shouldn’t be feeling guilty. It’s all on Derek, everything is his fault. Always was, always will be. Not trusting himself to not start another fight, he settles for whispering “Thank you.”

His wolf is a bit more settled, but still going a little crazy. He hasn’t scent-marked Stiles in three days. He can’t smell a bit of himself on him. He fights for control. Closes his eyes. Counts to 10 in Spanish and back. He manages to pull the change back.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Because you shouldn’t be sorry about the way you feel. I get it, you don’t like me. It’s sad, but I’ll get over it. You go back to your friends and family, and this Paige girl, and I get more Scott and dad time, and Deaton, I guess. You don’t have to pretend to like me and I don’t have to spend time with the Hales. Win-win.”

“You don’t like spending time with us?” He knows he’s frowning, he’s still trying to wrap his head around what Stiles said, he’s got it all wrong and Derek’s asking the wrong questions again. Stiles lets out a frustrated sound and drops back into his chair. It squeaks at the force.

He should get him a new one. That’s be a useful gift. He still has some money saved up.

Focus Derek. Fix things first. “No, no, wait. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“What did you mean to say, Derek?”

“I was just surprised. I’m sorry about yesterday. Laura said something. I overreacted and did something stupid. I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go away.”

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know how to explain or justify or excuse the way he acted yesterday.

“You should eat, before it goes cold.”

Stiles smiles a bit. Nods. “Come, share.”

Derek hates fruit pizza. And Stiles knows this. But he’ll eat if that’s what it takes to fix it.

He steps closer, moves to take a piece. Stiles’ giggle stops him.

“Stop looking so tortured, sadwolf. Let’s get some cereal for you.”

So this isn’t some weird form of torture then, he thinks as he follows Stiles downstairs. This thing he messed up, it’s still fixable.

The relief he feels is palpable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Derek view of things. Hopefully, this cleared things up a bit about the mess in his head.
> 
> This chapter wasn't beta read, so please let me know if you see any mistakes. ^_^ Thank you for continuing to be amazing <333
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr: demon-hatchling <333

**Author's Note:**

> Hiyaa! This is gonna be a long ride, so buckle up. Huge thanks to Raiven, for beta-ing this for me (you're the best). Any mistakes you find are mine and feel free to point them out :)
> 
> You can expect updates on Mondays and Thursdays ^_^


End file.
